


down where all that I built surrounds me

by pantsoflobster



Series: this is not the house that pain built [5]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Family, Fluff, Gen, Happy Ending AU, M/M, Marriage, Parenthood, a different kind of cottage fic, married with a teenage daughter, scottish safehouse honeymoon part duex, the only thing i find comfort in is my pre-emptive fix it fic universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:47:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25498576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pantsoflobster/pseuds/pantsoflobster
Summary: “That could be nice,” Jon said, staring down at the freshly dried towels he was folding to hide his skepticism.“And… I’ve thought about maybe going back to the village near the safehouse.”His eyes snapped up to Martin, reclining on their bed and still staring down at his notebook, scribbling.“What, really?”---Decades later, Jon and Martin take a trip back to Scotland and visit the safehouse for the first time since they left.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Series: this is not the house that pain built [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1683676
Comments: 31
Kudos: 335





	down where all that I built surrounds me

**Author's Note:**

> There are a couple direct references to Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner?, the first fic in this series. If you haven’t read it, just note if there’s some confusing detail it’s prob coming from that
> 
> and also if you haven't read my other fics you might be unfamiliar with their daughter Ellen but here she is she's 18 here
> 
> the chapter title is another line from “this is not the house that pain built” by dar williams

Ellen had never been to Scotland. Recently, Martin had brought up the idea of taking a short trip over the weekend that her spring holiday overlapped with Jon’s. It sounded like a lovely idea for a respite, not too far away but just far enough for a change of pace. They didn’t do that sort of thing often. Ellen’s girlfriend had just committed to the University of Edinburgh for the following fall, so she had been itching to visit the city she hoped to be making frequent visits to in the near future. Amidst all the discussion of Edinburgh, Jon was a little taken aback when Martin suggested making a return to the highlands as well. 

“Two nights in Edinburgh, two nights up north?” he said. “We could do some of the big spots, like Loch Ness and all that. I haven’t even been there.” 

“That could be nice,” Jon said, staring down at the freshly dried towels he was folding to hide his skepticism.

“And… I’ve thought about maybe going back to the village near the safehouse.”

His eyes snapped up to Martin, reclining on their bed and still staring down at his notebook, scribbling.

“What, really?”

Martin shrugged. “Well, yeah. It’s just like any other quaint little village, so if we’re looking for a quiet retreat, why not go somewhere that means something to us? It would be quite a bit of driving around, but we could rent a car and--”

“Do you want to go back to the cabin?” Jon asked, squinting at him. Martin suddenly looked like he’d been caught.

“I mean… I’ve been thinking about it.” 

“Why?” Jon asked. 

Martin clearly hadn’t been prepared to explain his rationale just yet, so it came out in a bit of a jumbled rush. 

“You know how many people can walk by a pub and point and say to their kids, ‘Oh, me and your dad had our first date there’? We’ve never been able to do that because unfortunately, our first date was a panic-driven, three-week stay in a secluded cabin in Scotland. Our second date was the apocalypse. I’ve just been thinking about how I wish we had something to share with Ellen from that time that’s not a massive pile of horror stories.”

Jon couldn’t quite grasp where he was coming from. “Is that important to you?” 

“I just think it would be nice to… To share a bit of that with her. Give her a little bit more perspective on that time in our lives.”

Jon set down the towel he’d been holding uselessly and crawled up onto the bed. 

“Martin, it’s not like we don’t have any memories in London. We’ve lived our whole lives together here, besides those... strange beginnings. And I don’t exactly harbor a lot of nostalgia for that period, if I’m honest.” 

“Look,” he said, clearly regretting having brought it up at all. “We don’t have to go. I just thought it might be… interesting, or… I don’t know. It’s fine.”

Jon sighed and reached for his shoulder. “No, Martin--I’m sorry. I understand your interest in going, I do. I just meant... I don’t think you should feel like we’re bereft of history to share with our daughter just because of the circumstances surrounding the beginning of our relationship.”

“I don’t, I just--I want to go see it, alright? Call it a morbid curiosity. I know you love those. I just think it would be an experience to go back.” 

“Let’s think about it,” Jon offered gently.

They settled on making a visit to the village regardless and playing it by ear if they felt up to seeing the safehouse. They found a cottage to rent in another town not too far off, so they could rent a car and travel around the points of interest they’d decided on for their stay up there. 

It wasn’t long before Jon caught himself imagining seeing the cabin again, what it would feel like to walk through that door with Martin once more with their daughter in tow. The notion grew more and more romantic in his mind, an opportunity to taunt the ghosts of their past with the accomplishments of their beautiful, idyllic present, a poetic epilogue to that ungodly chapter of their lives. 

By the time they were on the train heading north, he’d practically decided on going. He just hadn’t said so out loud.

“You’re sure about going to the cabin?” Jon asked once more.

Martin nodded. “I think so, yeah.”

“I really want to see it,” Ellen said. “If you do, of course.” 

“I just have a mild reticence, since…” he said, tapping his finger to his leg nervously. “You know.”

“Since...?” Martin asked. 

Jon sighed. “I mean… You remember what it was like at the end. It wasn’t… It wasn’t right.”

Martin considered this. “Well, whatever was making it not right is gone now, so either the cabin’s gone too, or it’s fine.”

“What do you mean, what was it like at the end?” Ellen asked.

“It was…” Jon shook his head. “After the change, it was sort of sentient, in a way. It wanted us to stay. It kept us coddled and safe, but it was feeding on us somehow, like a parasitic cocoon.”

Ellen noticeably shivered, but looked interested all the same.

“Sorry,” Jon said. “Too much.”

“You’re fine, Dad,” she said. 

“Well, don’t be afraid to tell me if I start waxing ominous. Old habit.”

“Don’t worry,” Martin said. “I won’t hesitate.” 

“You never have.”

“El, all you have to do if he starts monologuing is plug your ears and walk away,” Martin joked. 

Jon rolled his eyes and changed the subject. “Remember that couple from--god, I hope they’re doing alright. What were their names?”

“Are you talking about the… Oh! The Griers? Jamie and...”

“Alistair,” Jon supplied. “That’s right.”

“Who were they?” Ellen asked. 

“A blessing and a curse on our time in that cabin,” Jon said fondly.

“Want to hear a funny story?” Martin said and Ellen nodded, pulling her knees up into her seat as green hills dotted with yellow sped past. 

They’d decided it was best to get the highlands out of the way for the first two nights, just in case it was emotionally draining as they feared it could be. That way, if necessary, they could follow it up with an actually fun respite to Edinburgh for the last two nights. So upon arrival at the train station at Inverness, they rented a car and drove out to the cottage they’d booked for a cozy night in with tea and several cutthroat rounds of the rummy game they always played as a family. In the morning, they would set out to visit the cabin.

Jon started to get an uneasy feeling as they neared the house up the distantly familiar winding road. A gut reaction, he told himself. Nothing but his mind flashing back to the way he felt the last time he took in these views. And then there it was, the cabin right before them, looking as peaceful and bucolic as it did the day they arrived, distinctly non-threatening. 

“Looks just like we left it,” Martin said as they stepped out of the car. “Well, not _just_ like we left it. Left it in a bit of a state, I’d say.” 

“It looks like I remember,” Jon said. 

“It’s cute,” Ellen said. “But you weren’t kidding when you said it was in the middle of nowhere.” 

“My car!” Martin cried, eyeing the rusting old sedan parked around the side. He laughed a bit hysterically and sped up to get a better look at it. “I completely forgot about that thing! Can’t believe it’s still here. I wonder if it runs.”

“Have you got the key?” Jon asked. 

“No, of course not. I just wonder if it would run.” 

They all stepped toward the door together, Martin’s hand laid gently on the back of Jon’s neck, guiding him. They stopped short on the flagstone that led to the entrance.

“This might be, um… We can leave at any moment if it gets to be too much,” Martin said, for his own benefit as much as Jon’s.

He nodded and looked to Ellen, who nodded as well in understanding. 

“Do you guys… want to go in alone?” she asked. 

“No,” Jon said quickly. 

“I could just give you a minute at first, if you want.” 

“No, no, love,” Martin said. “We want you with us, as long as you’re comfortable with it.” Jon nodded his agreement. 

“Yeah,” she said. “I just wanted to make sure.” 

Before they tried the door, they peeked in through the windows to ensure they weren’t breaking and entering on any new residents, as doubtful as it was. It seemed to hold all the same decrepit furniture they remembered, not even moved an inch.

“Looks the same,” Martin said. “I wouldn’t worry.” 

Jon took a breath and tried the key, which slid right in as if it’d been waiting for them. It sent a chill through his body, that same vestigial fear from a time when something so simple might not be trusted. The stale air hit them hard when the door swung in, smelling of dust and old wood and rain. 

“Best leave that open to freshen it up a bit,” Martin said.

He stepped slowly onto the creaky floorboards and the brief, stringent melody they played made him chuckle. He might have never remembered that particular sound as long as he lived, but he suddenly recalled how it had made him jump the first time he heard it. 

The memory played like a dream. They’d driven Martin’s car through the night and arrived no earlier than four in the morning, fought with the key and stumbled in, clammy hands held firmly together. Jon could never forget that sensation, new and odd and exhilarating and uncomfortable, though he would have sooner let his hand melt in Martin’s grip than let go at that point. Only twelve hours prior, he had kissed Martin for the first time in his flat as he scrambled to figure out what one packs to go into hiding for an uncertain amount of time. Now there they were, grappling to find lights with their joined hands tethering them awkwardly. They’d laughed at each other as they tried to move in separate directions, snapped back together by their equally unyielding grips.

He shook his head and looked at the very man, his husband, walking past him towards the kitchen with their daughter’s arm linked in his. Ellen gave Jon an odd, uncertain smile and he followed them in. 

He tried a light switch. “No power,” he said. 

“God, I hope there’s nothing in the fridge,” Martin said. “We are not opening that.” 

They all looked around in silence for a few moments, unsure what to do or say first. 

Ellen broke the silence. “You guys alright?” she asked, squeezing Martin’s arm with her free hand. 

“I--I think so,” Jon said.

Martin nodded, and then let out a shaky breath. “This is… really weird.” He let Ellen slide her arm out of his and she walked over to the bookshelf by the fireplace to peruse its contents. 

“It’s a lot nicer than I expected,” she said. “I sort of imagined a dilapidated hut in the woods.” 

“So did we. We were quite pleased,” Martin said. 

“Weird books,” she commented, looking over the odd collection of paperbacks.

“The place was stocked by Daisy,” Jon said. “You know what her tastes are like.” 

Ellen laughed, running her fingers over some of the yellowed spines. Jon came up behind her to look. 

“I read a lot of those,” he told her. “I hadn’t had so much free time in years and I didn’t know what to do with it. Pulp novels helped.” 

“Jon, there’s tea!” Martin said excitedly. He pointed to a box stashed in a cabinet above the stove. “Someone must have been here.”

“That’s Daisy’s brand,” Jon said. 

“She didn’t mention ever coming back when we told her we were coming. That’s a bit odd,” Martin said. 

“Well, that’s our Daisy,” he sighed. 

Jon stepped away and down the short hall to the bedroom and his family followed a few steps behind.

“Same bedspread,” Martin laughed, peeking into the room after Jon. “It looks like hell.” 

“It’s got to be at least thirty years old, I’d imagine,” Jon said, making to sit on top of it.

Martin tutted after him. “Jon, don’t sit. You know how much dust you’re going to stir up? You’ll make yourself sneeze.”

He shrugged and sat anyway, eliciting a sigh from his husband. Martin walked around the bed and opened the decaying curtains that had already been on their way to threadbare when they first stayed here. 

“God, this is just… so bizarre,” Martin said. “I had a hard time remembering this place as it was before the change. Think my memories of it got a bit muddled after.”

“Really?” Jon said. “I didn’t realize that.” 

He shrugged. “Didn’t seem like a big deal. Least of the weird side effects of the apocalypse, I suppose.”

“My memories of it are clear as day,” Jon said, splaying his hand across the dusty bedspread. “Thanks to the Eye, I’m sure.” 

Suddenly, Martin turned and glanced at the closet. “Did we--did we leave anything here?” 

“We certainly didn’t take much with us,” Jon said, getting up and following him over. Ellen came up behind them to peer inside when Martin opened the closet door. 

Their old clothes hung there undisturbed. The musty smell of the years they had been hanging there wafted off them with force as the door swung open. 

Jon gasped and immediately grabbed for a garment. “This sweater!” 

“That’s not even yours, that’s mine!” Martin said with a laugh. 

Jon pulled it close to his chest in a defensive motion. “I know, I just… have fond memories of it…” He lifted it to his nose and inhaled, quickly regretting his decision. “Ugh. It doesn’t smell like you anymore, obviously. Pointless.” He tucked it under his arm to take home anyway. 

“What was so special about that sweater?” 

“You, ah…” Jon averted his gaze. “You left it at work and I sort of nicked it when you were, you know. Not quite present.” 

“How’d it end up here?” Martin asked.

“I brought it.” 

“And how did we never have this conversation back then?”

Jon shrugged. “I didn’t want to.” 

“You old sap,” Martin said, with a shake of his head. 

Ellen edged in between them to examine the fashion choices of their younger years. She pinched a bit of argyle and pulled it out. “Who’s was this?”

“Who do you think?” Martin said, jerking his head toward Jon.

“I _really_ thought people only wore sweater vests in movies. _Argyle_ , Dad?” she said. 

Jon held up his hands in defense. “Look, I might not have had the best sense of style, but I worked in academia and I preferred that route for professional dress to jackets at the time.”

“And you brought it with you to hide out in a safehouse… in case you had an important meeting, or...?” Ellen said. 

Martin laughed. “She’s got you there, love.”

“We packed under great duress!” Jon argued. “I don’t know why I brought it. I’m not even sure I wore that to work more than once in my life.” 

Martin took a closer look at it. “I have to say, I don't really recall that look making a frequent appearance.” 

Jon folded his arms and eyed him playfully. “And you kept close tabs on my wardrobe, is that it?”

“Well, _I’m_ not ashamed to say I did,” Martin said. 

Ellen laughed and raised her eyebrows. “Maybe you should be.” 

“Who’s the old sap now?” Jon said.

Martin’s voice shot up an octave. “I took enough abuse over the silliness of my crush back then, I’m not about to take it from you, too!” he said pointed at Ellen. “Seems to me like I married that very silly crush and raised _you_ with him, didn’t I?”

Ellen doubled over in laughter, still clutching the edge of the offending sweater vest.

“That’s right,” Martin said. “Come on, out.” 

They made their way back out to the living space. Jon sat down on the sagging sofa and looked around the room, at Martin continuing to sift through the kitchen and Ellen peering out the back windows at the expansive rolling hills. 

Moments flooded to mind as he watched Martin from that spot, memories of staring at his back while he cooked, trying to stay deathly silent so he could hear every note he hummed to himself. Of constantly finding himself distracted from reading by the incessant desire for Martin to stop putting away groceries and come sit beside him. Of feeling what had for so long been something nebulous and confounding inside him clarify day by day into _Yes, that’s right. I love him_. He spent quite a bit of time falling deeper and truly in love with Martin from that vantage point. Rarely did he dare to imagine a future back then, to save himself the inevitable heartbreak when those dreams were ripped away.

Ellen drifted back from the window and sat down with him on the sofa.

“You know,” Jon said, clearing his throat when it came out unexpectedly raw. “Our time here before the change was… truly the happiest of my life up until that point.”

Martin turned toward him with somber eyes. “Me too,” he said quietly. 

“When we left, I thought that would be it,” Jon continued. “I thought those few weeks were all we were allotted for the rest of our lives, however long we managed to survive after that. I could have never…” He trailed off as a stupid lump rose in his throat. Ellen reached over and took his hand and damn it, he couldn’t even look at her. When had she become so grown? He gripped her hand tight and shook it lightly, as if presenting it as evidence. 

“I could have never dreamed of you,” he finally managed to say. “Let alone everything else.” 

Martin came to join them on the sofa and wrapped his arms around him, leaning his head against the side of Jon’s. 

“I love you both so very much,” Jon said. “I’m... infinitely grateful for what we’ve made of our lives.”

Ellen laid her head on his other shoulder, and Martin pressed a kiss to his temple. “We deserved it, my love,” he said. 

Jon closed his eyes and basked in the moment, bracketed by the two people who made up his whole heart, feeling their warmth and their solid presence around him. He thought again of himself younger, lying on that very sofa wrapped in Martin’s arms, his mind a battleground for a war between fear and peace, feeling more at ease than he had in years and waiting for it to all come crashing down. For that man, the reality of the present would have sounded more far fetched than the end of the world. 

His eyes popped open when he heard a sniffle and caught Ellen wiping her eye. “Are you alright, darling?” 

She nodded and wrapped her arms around Jon’s middle. 

“It’s a lot to take in, El,” Martin said gently. “It’s okay.” 

“You guys have been through so much,” she said, quiet. 

“Yes,” Jon said. “But we’re alright.” 

Martin reached around Jon’s back to pet Ellen’s hair. “Thank you for coming to see this with us.”

“Of course, Dad,” she said. 

Martin gave a little laugh. “D’you ever wish your parents just met in a pub or something like everyone else’s?”

Ellen scoffed. “You literally saved the world. I think I’ll keep you.”

“After ending it myself, but you know, I’ll take it,” Jon said quickly and quietly. 

“Oh, shut up,” Martin said. He gave the two of them one more squeeze and stood. Ellen rose with him, but Jon stayed put a moment longer and Martin looked down at him.

“You know what?” Martin said quietly. “El, would you actually mind giving us a moment?”

She smiled and nodded. “Of course. I’ll just be outside.”

“Thanks, love.” 

Ellen left through the open front door and pulled it shut behind her to give them a moment of privacy. Martin held out his hands and helped Jon to his feet, pulling him a few steps closer to the center of the room where the living space bled into the kitchen. 

Despite being the one to call this meeting, Martin did nothing but stare at him for a good moment, so Jon took it upon himself to break the silence. 

“I learned how to love you here,” he said solemnly. 

Martin’s face crumpled into a sentimental smile, and he stepped forward to rub his hands over Jon’s shoulders. Jon looped his arms around his middle.

“I think I learned how to be loved,” Martin said.

“Important lessons all around.”

Martin nodded, and then something sullen washed over his face. “It was rough for a bit after.”

“Yes,” Jon said.

“Got a bit worried sometimes, that, you know,” he muttered shamefully. “Maybe this wouldn’t work after all.”

“I’d say there were extenuating circumstances.” 

“Yeah, there were. Weren’t there?” 

Jon ran his hands up Martin’s back and looked into his sweet, maudlin eyes. “You never gave up on me,” he said. 

“Would’ve been a real fool if I had. I’m not even sure what that would have looked like, but it sure wouldn’t be what we have now.” 

Jon laid his head against him and Martin’s own came to rest on top. They held each other for a long moment, breathing in the musty air of the cabin. It felt like an echo of some long-past moment, like recreating a pose from a photograph. Jon reckoned they probably were, in effect. He was sure they must have at least once stood here in this very same position in a very different world, one that hadn’t yet been broken and put back together again.

“D’you ever think, this is where we picked our sides of the bed and it’s never changed?” Martin said. 

Jon hummed a thoughtful laugh against his shoulder. “It is funny how many habits we developed here that stuck.” 

“Crosswords,” Martin said. “And walks after dinner, and that you wash and I dry.” 

Jon shook his head with a small smile. “This place really let us take the fast track to domesticity, didn’t it?” 

“It really did.”

Jon lifted his head to gaze into his eyes again, an unspoken question of whether he was ready to leave. Martin gave a nod.

“Just wanted a moment alone,” he said.

Jon nodded back, and Martin moved in to kiss him, sweetly cupping his face as Jon gripped the sides of his jacket. Martin gave a small laugh as they broke apart. 

“I also wanted to get one good kiss in here, since the last one wasn’t under the best of circumstances.” 

Jon laughed. “Well, consider it officially overwritten.”

Martin stroked his cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Jon whispered, nearly overlapping. 

“We’ve done good, yeah?” Martin said. 

“Very.”

Martin kissed him on the forehead and then pulled back, holding him gently by the shoulders. “Let’s not keep her waiting.” 

“Alright. Let’s go,” Jon said. 

Martin turned briefly back toward the kitchen counter. “I’m taking this tea tin, though,” he said, snatching it up. “Do you remember this? Got it from the secondhand shop in the village.” 

Jon took a look at the thing. “That’s right,” he said, followed by a small gasp. “And there were those salt shakers that you wouldn’t let me get!” 

Martin gave an exaggerated roll of his eyes. “Oh, good lord. Bet they’re still there, those ugly things.”

“Well then, we’re going,” Jon said. “And if they are still there, they’re mine. Going right on the dining room table.”

“Going right on your desk, is more like it. At school, so your students can see what stunning taste in decor you have.” 

“Do you think they’re actually still there?”

“No!” Martin cried. “It’s been twenty-five years!” 

Jon stuck up his nose. “It couldn’t hurt to check.” 

“Oh, come on, you,” Martin said, throwing his free hand on the nape of Jon’s neck and ushering him towards the door. 

**Author's Note:**

> whew i've been picking at this one for a while 
> 
> extremely indulgent but it gives me life


End file.
